Wymond Miles’s imaginative guitar work is often enough to cover a multitude of sins (see the scorching lead on “Hummingbird” and the minimal flourishes on “April Fools”). For some listeners that will be enough, but overall the record feels structured more like a career-spanning live set than a cohesive collection.

Despite some inspired guest contributions from A Sunny Day in Glasgow’s Jen Goma and Beirut’s Kelly Pratt, the raw guitar anthems from Belong are too often replaced by poppy fizz, toothless jangle and twee melancholia on Abandon.

Out-and-out rockers “A Mirror” and “Tired & Buttered” provide some much-needed lucidity, but as a whole, Held in Splendor may be a bit too tranquil for its own good.

Shearwater’s selection of covers is as diverse as their own discography.

This is another great move by a revered musician, but the delivery isn’t always as exciting as the idea.

Though “subdued” is a dirty word that’s thrown around a lot, in the case of the collection that comprises Get There, the duo shines bright when they pick up the pace.

Back To Forever strives for mainstream acceptance, and in doing so dilutes Lissie’s strengths.

Ranaldo and his band are unparalleled musicians but have fallen prey to a disaster that normally besets younger bands--a great sound and nothing said.

He’s taken a sharply intimate and original turn from his debut solo effort and the result is a catalogue of 14--surprise!--super-chill tunes, consistent front to back, although none necessarily a standout.

The band sounds more polished than ever, especially when they shed their folk roots, but the funky riffs (“Feel the Chill,” “Drive On Up”) owe more to Songs in the Key of Life than Highway 61 Revisited.

There are no distinguishable hooks or chorus lines anywhere on Coming Apart; instead, it’s just Gordon and Nace simultaneously subverting and creating musical forms that will surely polarize listeners who want to “get it” and those who refuse to.

Their self-titled LP has the troupe’s familiar indie-“folk”-meets-psychedelia soundings, yet adds some new wrinkles.

The Sun Dogs features solid, compelling songwriting and sounds wonderful; heavy, spacious guitars flare up amidst the smoke, and when these guys start to rip, there’s no stopping them.

There are a few thrilling moments here—notably the cinematic ballad “Nothing”--but the band mostly flounders as it seeks a new direction.

It has stylistic cohesion on its side, even though that’s where it’s at its most derivative, but it’s like an antique firearm--it might look the part, but it’s not much good for shooting.

It’s Nocturnes' two sleek singles (“Motorway,” “Broken Record”) that manage the best in dark electronic allure with shiny, hook-driven choruses.

Precious and self-indulgent, this disc is bound for the sale rack at Starbucks.

Chris Martin’s voice is unremarkable but inoffensive on the non-instrumentals, and while some of Cosy’s tones are satisfying, they don’t redeem its shortcomings.

Will Maas be forever obsessed with the good–evil dichotomy? The answer’s in their moniker--and their monitors.

Unfocused and uninspired, Machineries lacks the sprawling majesty and well-forged hooks of earlier efforts.

An A.merican D.ream struts back into those alleyways, but devoid of any kind of humor.

Although it toes a dangerous line of resounding too imitative of its own influences, the young producer is nonetheless well on his way to fully embracing his identity.

The results aren’t all winners, but there are gems where you wouldn’t expect them.

The band’s fourth release, Christopher, falls flat despite containing one of this year’s (possibly this decade’s) finest pop songs with its opener “Desert of Pop.”

Waiting For Something To Happen, is something both sinister and sweet, dripping with shoegaze guitars and harmonies abound.

Pedestrian Verse is an album made up of melodies, lyrics and verses that are completely, well, pedestrian.

Quality though it could be, if only the vision wasn't so occluded.

The Soft Moon's sophomore album Zeroes is an experimentation in industrial sound that doesn't fully hit the mark.